Through the eyes of Marty Deeks
by sirscreen
Summary: See how Deeks sees the morning, his coworkers, his job.


The mission. Old, should be a state monument. But, it serves a better purpose as being our headquarters. Who are we? Well, you're gonna have to sit down for the answer.

I'll start with the very beginning. The very beginning. In 1775 the Continental Navy was established. Since then it has been disbanded and reformed many, many times. In 1882, the Office of Naval Intelligence (to some, an oxymoron in and of itself) was formed with limited espionage powers, which eventually grew to counter espionage. This eventually grew to more investigative powers, but for now we will stick with counter-intelligence and -espionage. Eventually, the ONI split, with the domestic duties falling to the Naval Investigative Service (NIS). NIS remained a military service, with all of civilian employees considered military contractors, until 1992 in which it made the complete switch to civilian command and was renamed the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS). The internal structure of the agency shifted somewhat in recent years. While it used to be that local Special Agents in Charge (SACs), who headed a field office, would organize local counter-intelligence units, nowadays it's all done at the behest of the Director. Which is where we come in.

We are the Naval Criminal Investigative Service's Office of Special Projects (NCIS OSP). We are tasked-

"Deeks!" Ah, the ducil tones of my partner, MacKensi "Kensi" Blye. A smoking hot babe who can kill a man with her pinky. Endless legs that can knock a man's testicles to his eyeballs. A curvy, drop dead sexy figure that she knows how to use to beat a man senseless. A gorgous face that can flirt any information out of a man. Those stunning, slightly weird two colored eyes that can see a man lying from a mile away.

I am rambling, aren't I?

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Really, you seem kinda quiet," really woman? You want to get this started?

"Well, we could talk about the fact that you went out on a date last night and didn't tell me about it," And let the games begin...

"I didn't go on a date," she protested. How can someone so skilled at undercover work be so bad at lying?

"Really, you want to go there, Miss Popcorn Butter on her fingers?" Take the bait...

Gotcha! She checked her fingers, and said, "How'd you see that?"

"I didn't you just confirmed it," I gloated.

"Jokes on you," she shot back, "I went to the movies alone."

"So, instead of being with a date you were sad and pathetic?"

"Yes- NO!" she protested, flustered. I laughed. It was our game. If we can die at any moment, why not make those moments as amusing as we can make them?

"What's the score now?" And that was our fearless team leader, the mysterious and strange G. Callen. Man doesn't even know his own first name. A living, breathing chameleon. A man who doesn't sleep, moves every other month, can't be found unless he wants to be.

"Deeks twenty-five, Kensi twenty-eight," Meet our resident muscle man, Sam Hannah. Former Navy SEAL, father, a soft man in a hard shell. A really, really hard shell. But hey, who am I to judge.

And that score? It's the number of times I got the drop on Kensi this month. And the number of times she got the drop on me. We have a similar one for Sam and G. Except, with ours, it's more about whether or not we can guess what those two are arguing about on any given day. I currently lead by five points, thank you very much.

A piercing whistle sounded throughout the mission. It's our tech support guy, Eric Beale. The man who "Broke the internet". Hack any computer, so the security clearance is little more than a formality. A fellow surfer who shows up to work in dress even more casual than my own, which I didn't think possible. With the Redhead Tech Pixie, Nell Jones, he provided much needed support to our operations. You know what they say, it takes a village to protect a country.

Now, back to my narration as to our job within this agency. We are tasked with counter-intelligence, counter-espionage, and counter-terrorism. Most of our work is done under cover. Most of our work is dangerous. We make enemies. Sometimes, our enemies come after us to hurt someone else. Ours is a lonely existence. Avoid patterns. Use aliases. Drinks after work as a team? Not going to happen. Maybe with our partner. But as a team? That quadruples the chance that one of our enemies will see us.

And Hetty, freaky old ninja Lady Gaga loving lady who was our boss, mother, rabbi, and priest all rolled into one. Women who's had more liason's with the rich and famous of yesteryear than the rich and famous of yesteryear. One of the last Cold Warriors, the woman who wrote the book on espionage and counter-espionage. She has killed more people than cancer, and could probably be credited with ending the cold war. We've never been able to find out.

And who am I, you ask? I am Detective Martin Deeks, Esquire. Call me Marty. Or Deeks. Esquire is fine too, I think. I am the liaison between the Los Angeles Police Department and NCIS OSP. I have a law degree and have passed the BAR exam for the state of California. Which is something my esteemed colleagues, for all their training, have yet to do. I was a good lawyer. I even won a few high profile cases. Of course, the idiot head chair took all the credit. I was a good cop. Broke a few hard cases. Forensics? Did it. Undercover? Aww man, was that fun! Homicide? Please, Colombo has nothing on me. And now liaison. It's fun. I like this team. I think I'll stay awhile. I'm not sure what I am going to do after. Maybe I'll take Hetty up on that offer to be a full time agent. Maybe I'll quit, head back to the LAPD. Thought doesn't hold the appeal it used to. Maybe I'll quit, buy a bike and go on a walkabout. But then how would I surf?...

But for now, I'm happy where I am. I'll stay a little while longer.

**Please review!**


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